a history

Chapter 6

The
Holladays

TWO
years after his new
partner's arrival, John Garton died, at the age of 69, and John King
decided to combine with another Exeter ironmonger named Munk. The firm
was then styled "King & Munk," (see note) but
within a year the partnership
was
dissolved and the previous title reappeared.

At this time the
firm employed the disc system for checking the workmen's time of
arrival. Each man was allotted a numbered metal disc, and all the discs
were kept on appropriately numbered hooks on a board in the works
office. Above the board was a large accusing clock.

All workmen
had to pass in through the works office. Each man took his disc and
dropped it into a slot in a box, whence the discs were later retrieved
and rehung. The timekeeper or the manager sat like Cerberus under the
clock during checking in. If any wretch came late and managed to avoid
the office, his disc still hung accusingly on its hook, to testify that
he had not checked in, and he was searched out for censure.

Sometimes
a latecomer made a futile effort to crash his way through the office
without stopping to check. It only meant that he was pursued by the
manager with yells. When the disc system was finally superseded by the
time card, the discs were still preserved as relics.

After
Garton's death, John Gould King managed the firm with the sporadic
assistance of his son. The latter was an extraordinarily gifted
draughtsman, and a number of his fine drawings are still preserved.
However, his powers of application did not equal his draughtsmanship,
so he did not gain a footing in the business.

An epoch-making
event occurred in 1898, vet at the time the event seemed unremarkable.
A small, quiet-voiced, youngish man of 36 passed under the Golden
Hammer to enter into partnership with John King. This young man was
Hugo Holladay, who had come from Faversham, in Kent. He had completed,
some Nears before, an apprenticeship in ironmongery with the firm of
Tett & Hussey, Faversham – which service had been begun at
the princely wage of two shillings a week.

No change was
made in
the name of the firm, but Hugo Holladay soon made his presence felt. He
was a man of immense business acumen, ideally suited to administer the
retail side of the firm, and 190 High Street took a new lease of life.

Two
years later, in 1900, King died, and the next stage of the new era was
attained when Hugo Holladay was joined by his younger brother Edgar-a
man of the same quiet manner as his brother, and sharing with him that
peculiar quality of penetration so valuable to the business man. Edgar
was to take over the engineering side of the firm-a feat of
considerable magnitude, for he had been trained as a brewer, without
the slightest knowledge of engineering. Yet, with the most remarkable
tenacity he applied himself to the mighty task, learning as he went and
relying upon his native wit to see him through difficulties as they
arose. He had one advantage ; coming as he did from the world outside
engineering, his mind was unbiased by any of the antique fetishes to be
found in every trade. Edgar Holladay saw only logical conclusions, and
bringing to bear the newest scientific methods of the day, which he
doggedly taught himself, he beat down old rule-of-thumb practices by
sheer hard fact and logic.

His success was all the more
praiseworthy when one remembers that he was already thirty-three when
he entered the firm, and learning does not become easier when the first
youth is past.

Each brother kept to his own
province, Hugo in
the retail premises at 190 High Street, and Edgar in his offices
overlooking the foundry and fitting shops. At the outset, the works
supplied a good deal of material for the "front shop," but as mass production
increased in the great iron working centres, it became more economical
to buy for retail. This change had an adverse effect on the foundry,
whose output dwindled to a negligible amount.

In
1914 the Golden
Hammer overlooked the marching ranks with their blaring bands, heading
for a war immeasurably greater than any war since the Hammer had first
swung from its bracket. Beneath it also passed the women of the new
era, going to do men's work so that the muddy trenches might be kept
manned-the post-women and the coal-women and the sweep women, all doing
jobs unheard of for Englishwomen of that day.

Slowly the black
months dragged along, until bells and music and joyous voices rang out
the dreary four years and welcomed peace. Peace-a time for rebuilding
nations and trade. The Golden Hammer, partly eclipsed by the gloom of
war, shone out brightly again as the two Holladays strove to take
advantage of the revived flow of business. Their build-up was so
effective that in 1924 they decided to consolidate their footing by
forming a limited liability concern. The board comprised Hugo and Edgar
Holladay, with Hugo as Chairman.

Edgar was now able to expand
the shrunken foundry output by seeking contracts for municipal work and
small builders' castings, with the accent on repetition work that could
he produced from pattern plates and moulding machines. Ranges and
grates no longer formed an appreciable part of the work, for the
increase in gas cooking was cutting down the number of coal ranges used
in urban areas. However, gas cookers were almost entirely of cast iron,
so there was ample work in producing parts for these.

The early
1930's saw further changes. In 1932 Henry Edgar Eland Holladay, Edgar
Holladay's elder son, joined the Company. His entry presaged an event
that was to break one of the links with John Atken. Hugo Holladay
retired in 1933, and the historic "front shop "was closed and the
premises let on a long lease, after an unbroken record of over 270
years. The famous Golden Hammer was carefully rehung before the
Waterbeer Street premises, and Henry Holladay became a director of a
company whose ironmongery department was now much reduced.

A
chain is parted by the breaking of a single link, and so it proved with
the Company's affairs. Only three years after the closure of 190 High
Street the firm was forced to contemplate complete removal. A notice of
requisition was served by the City Council, with a view to using the
firm's Waterbeer Street premises in a scheme for a new Civic Centre.

Two
courses of action presented themselves to the directors-to close down,
or to seek new premises on the outskirts of the City. A period of
frenzied activity and vexatious setbacks culminated in the choice of a
site in Tan Lane, St. Thomas, and after much negotiating the purchase
was made. A complete new plant was erected, comprising foundry, pattern
shop, machine shop, offices, stores, etc., and a link with the centre
of the City was maintained by establishing a showroom in Central
Station Buildings, Queen Street.

By this time (1938) a new
director had been appointed to the Board-Alec Hugo Holladay younger
brother of Henry Holladay. During July and August, 1939, came the end
of an era and the final severance between the Golden Hammer and St.
Petrock's parish. The removal having been completed, the famous symbol
was rehung over the new works, to begin another chapter of its story.

Note: Since
the writing of either version of the Golden Hammer much evidence has
been discovered to show that the period that the business traded as
King & Munk was not only longer than originally thought but also
later in time than the late 1860s as originally suggested.

Many
entries and documents that are dated exist and give evidence to suggest
that the business traded as King & Munk from about May 1883 up
until about October 1885. The Bristol Mercury and Daily Post, Thursday
31 May 1883 referred to King & Munk’s Stand at the Bath &
West Show and the Flying Post of 21st May 1884 carried a two column
advert placed by King & Munk in connection with the Devon County
Agricultural Show. Underneath the heading appear the words “late
Garton & King” in small type.

Ledger entries and
Shipping Agent documents consistently refer to the business as King
& Munk throughout this period.